“Oh, well, certainly you have the nerve,” admitted Chapin. “But it’s risky.”
“Are you willing to go in on it?” asked Pete quickly.
“Of course,” was the instant rejoinder.
“Then name your game!” came from Bill, “and you’ll find us right behind you up to the muzzle of the cannon. Out with it!”
“Oh, I wish you’d stayed away,” spoke Cap. “I’m back in my trigonometry, and if I flunk—Well, I suppose we may as well hear what you’ve got up your sleeve,” and he laid aside his book, with a laugh and a half-protesting shake of his head.
Bob’s first act was to go over to the door of Cap’s room, in which the gathering took place, and see that the portal was tightly closed. Then he listened at the keyhole.
“Is it perfectly safe?” he asked in a whisper. “Can anyone hear us?”
“Say, what are we up against?” asked Cap with a laugh. “Is this a gunpowder plot, or merely a scheme to burn the old school.”
“Listen, and I will a tale unfold,” went on Chapin. “Gather ’round, my children, gather ’round the camp-fire and Anthony shall tell us one of his famous stories. So they gathered ’round—”
“Oh, get along with it—we’ve got to do some boning to-night, Bob,” complained Pete. “We’ve heard that camp-fire joke before.”